


Tails together

by Cappuccinomuki



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Chapter Lengths Vary, Drabble Collection, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Gen, Nartok - Freeform, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Build, Slow To Update, Voltron Paladins - Freeform, Work In Progress, Work title might change, blade of marmora, galra - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-10-13 23:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17497709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cappuccinomuki/pseuds/Cappuccinomuki
Summary: What if, while the Blade of Marmora is fighting alongside the Voltron Paladins against the Galra Empire, Antok starts to get feelings for a certain silent Galra general serving under Prince Lotor?Starts loosely from canon season 3 ep 1, with the exception of Antok, Thace and Ulaz surviving and returning to the Blades, Shiro surviving and continuing as the Black Paladin and Keith and Lance as Red and Blue Paladins respectively.





	1. First meeting

**Author's Note:**

> The idea of this pairing took me by surprise one morning and I instantly fell in love. *Sigh * I couldn't get anything done before I had drabbled at least something. This is mostly going to be slowly building fluff, loosely connected to each other.

It was just a little flick of the tail. Just a flick, nothing more, barely visible even to those who knew to look for tail gestures.

But it was that tiny movement that made the giant Blade stall in his attack. No, he didn't stop the swishof his blade followed by a well-practiced series of slashes and kicks. He was too seasoned a warrior to lose focus.  But he did stall, just for a fraction of a tick, fascinated by that lull of a tail tip. And that pause, no matter how small and insignificant as a time slice it was, was enough for his opponent to bolster their defense and avoid any of the series of hits landing. The big Blade had cursed in Galran under his grunt, his instructor's instincts screaming at him for making such a novice mistake, of faltering during combat.

As the opponent jumped and swirled their tail in a powerful diagonal smack, focused on gaining enough height to hit the Blade in the head, Antok could only smile behind his mask his tail tip giving that same small flicker as he stood his ground and blocked the hit with his Marmora Blade.

He didn't drop his stance as the enemy recovered from the block, landing a good four tail lengths away. He didn't move as the enemy readied for another attack before a retreat order from their leader made his foe halt. The enemy tilted their head minutely as if only _now_ regarding the tail flip from before, their tail swishing languidly behind them. Antok's own tail mimicked the movement before it curled tightly around his leg.

With a backwards flip his foe jumped onto the closing fighter to join their allies. From the corner of his eye, as the fighter took off to the skies and the blue and red paladins gave feeble chase, Antok could see his foe holding something in their arms, petting it, facing him as their tail curled around their leg in a near death grip. 


	2. Happy hybrid

Antok was happy. His tail swished languidly behind him as he stood arms crossed over his chest behind the Red Lion’s pilot seat. Of course, only those closest to him could tell the big Galran was happy, his mask and body language revealing nothing to an untrained eye. They revealed very little to a trained eye as well. So it was no wonder the Red Paladin, Keith, kept glancing back at him. The giant Blade found it near endearing how the boy tried to be as inconspicuous of his glances as he could, grip on the Red Lion’s controls never faltering. It almost seemed that the boy wanted to ask the older Blade something, perhaps a comment or a small remark, but held back his tongue.

The giant Blade’s shoulders shook with quiet laughter. Another glance from the small boy.

This time the Galran spoke up. “Focus. This part of the flight is tricky.”

In all honesty, Antok was certain the Red Paladin could fly this stretch of their mission with his eyes closed and hands tied behind his back, but it made the Galran feel good to be able to elect a response from the human mix even if it was as simple as returning his gaze to the controls. Though Antok couldn’t really blame the boy for his enthusiasm, he himself was happy to meet and be with a kit of a fellow Blade. Kits were rare in the tides of war.

Then again, the young Paladin wasn’t the only reason he was in a merry mood. Lately, the thought of his last fight with the adept, tail-flicking fighter -who  he later learnt was a general of Prince Lotor – made him feel giddy and warm, the feelings making his tail _swish_ and _swosh_ near uncontrollably. Why, Antok wasn’t exactly sure, but he was quite certain it had to do with finding an adept warrior and wanting to do battle again. The fact that he had never felt that way of any of his foes didn’t register. Antok was happy, his tail swishing languidly as the Paladin set the Lion down some ways away from their target facility.

Before, on the Castle of the Lions, Keith had for a good part of the last phoeb been pining to go on a mission with the Blades, or to even receive some training from his fellow Galra. Three quintants ago Kolivan had finally relented and allowed the small half-Galran to accompany Antok on a reconnaissance mission, low-danger.

The Blue Paladin had phrased it as a win-win situation, whatever that meant. The Red Paladin though had seemed doubtful of having Antok teach him the art of sneaking around. The hybrid had received a lifted eyebrow from the Red Paladin, as if asking if he could actually be silent and sneaky noting his size. Antok had merely scoffed and said that he was sneakier than a Tarmaxian ferret in a Brytan birdnest.

As they made their way towards the abandoned Galra facility, Antok’s steps not stirring up a leaf, the big Galran was happy, his tail swishing languidly and hitting the young one in the face. That ought to teach the boy to question his skills.


	3. Second meeting

Now, as the empty barrel clonked down the large, empty, _quiet_ hangar, Antok truly hoped the paladin would not remember his earlier doubts about his sneakiness. If the human mix did, he didn’t voice them.

His gaze swept over the empty space, the ruined shells of a few fighters lying miserably on their sides in the distance, partly hidden by the shadows and overgrown vegetation. Antok flexed his claws as he looked for any movement, but the darkness remained unmoving. Luckily there were some large cracks in the ceiling hanging high above them, shedding pale light of the day around them, so they didn’t have to sneak around in a complete darkness and possibly trip over vines. And the empty crates. And the barrels.

“There’s nothing here”, Keith piped up from behind him, and Antok’s ears flicked under his hood when there was an unmistakable sound of Keith giving a tentative kick at rubble. “I cannot wait to write on my report: _found empty boxes_.”

Antok did _not_ roll his eyes (but he did flick his tail). “Not all recon missions lead to ground-breaking intel”, he said. Or at least it would not be found in _empty_ _boxes_. No, there would be a smaller room somewhere, a command centre, an archive –

A soft sound reached the hybrid’s ears, a mere whisper of misplaced air when something cut through it with great speed. In a swift movement he had grabbed the hilt of his sword with his claws and he smoothly drew it from its sheath as he swirled around just in time to see something drop from the ceiling and land right on top of Keith. The human mix hit the ground hard, and the assailant rolled gracefully a few steps away, coming up to a crouching position. At this point Antok had fully drawn his blade, adopted a fighting stance and –

He knew that fighter. He knew that graceful tail and the dark hood, the lithe form, the strong, silent warrior.

The opponent seemed to tilt their head minutely, maybe in recognition, but then, that might have just been Antok’s imagination.

All this had not even taken a tick – any seasoned warrior would never let that happen – and that tick was still not up when Antok caught something else in the edges of his field of vision, and barely had time to jump back when a purple laser bolt almost fried the surface of his mask.

“Quiznak!”

Keith would have to face the other one alone, he thought grimly as he dodged another shot from a laser gun. Following the shots to a pile of crates he gave them a strong slash with his sword. The crates went flying, ant the pale blue Galran hiding behind them shot at his face unceremoniously. Antok leaped to the right and swiped at his enemy’s feet with his blade.

A crash sounded from where Keith and the other Galran had been fighting, and Antok took a glance at them to see Keith pick himself up from amidst the boxes, looking rather pissed but mostly unharmed. The boy hadn’t even made a scratch on his enemy’s armour –something Antok was both displeased and immensely _pleased_ about.

The blue Galran fired at the giant Blade again and he was forced to keep his attention solely on his own foe. But – maybe Antok was imagining it – it seemed like the blue eyes of his opponent sometimes strayed towards Keith and the other fighting, and when Keith let out a pained grunt the blue eyes snapped to the direction of the sound, tinted with worry. Curious but ever efficient, Antok struck her gun in a wide arc, it flying from her hands as he lunged again only for her to dodge at the last dobosh, blue hair flicking back.

He struck, she parried, she aimed a kick, he evaded. Then he heard a curious sound from behind him, a strange hiss that definitely didn’t come from Keith, and a gurgling sound that definitely _did_ come from the human mix. Before he knew it he was glancing backwards to see the paladin dangling in the air, legs kicking uselessly, the tail of the Galran wrapped around his neck, the bayard lying dormant on the floor.

“Keith!” Antok yelled, turning halfway so he could see both of the enemies and Keith at the same time. The boy’s grip seemed to be faltering on the tail around his neck and the giant Blade moved without thinking. He let out a low, menacing growl only reserved for the worst of foes, and tossed his blade.

“ _Narti!”_ the blue-skinned Galran shouted, before diving for her gun and taking a shot at her large enemy who was already barrelling towards the other two.

_Narti,_ Antok thought distantly as he saw the hooded Galran dodge his blade while the paladin still tangled from the tail. The lithe figure tilted their head and dropped to a fighting stance, unnerved by the weight on their tail, ready to – a yowl jerked the fighter’s head back. Keith was released to slump on the floor in a disheveled pile, coughing and gasping for air. Antok registered the sound as one of pain as he reached the Red Paladin, Narti abandoning the fight and darting behind one of the support pillars of the hangar. Further away, the blue Galran cursed under her breath and shot at the ceiling, collapsing it efficiently between herself and her enemies before running after her comrade.

Antok shielded the boy from the falling debris, though it was only dust and some bits of vegetation that settled on them.

When he went to retrieve his blade, a tuft of black-orange fur was pinned to the ground beneath it.


	4. Pit of despair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Narti doesn't speak at all, and in one episode communicated her displeasure via Kova's growl, I've decided that she's unable to use her vocal chords (meaning growl or speak or purr), but is able to click with her tongue ( meaning click and tut/tsk) and expulse air (meaning snort and sigh). 
> 
> In this chapter I've conveyed her click via the american onomatopoetic rendering tsk, for it is closer in sound description to her annoyance than the british equivalent of tut.
> 
> I guess click or da-click as renderings would work as well....

Tsk.

Antok’s ears pinned back instinctively. He tried not to squirm, noting that there wasn’t really any room to move, though he couldn’t stop a small jerk of tensed muscles. The situation was _far_ from ideal.

Tss-sk.

At the annoyed sound Antok tilted his head slightly in apology. Yes, this could’ve been planned better.

 _Snort_.

“Sorry,” he mumbled out, tail tip flicking in between his legs, brushing against the rock face behind him. Not that the verbal apology would really do anything, but he just had to say it. The blind Galran met the larger hybrid’s gaze unimpressed with a thin-lined mouth, her tail tip accusingly pointing at the male from its trapped position by the blind Galran’s head. The rest of the large appendage was trapped between the female’s back and the rock wall. Her legs dangled freely by the Blade’s larger ones.

“Sorry,” he repeated, wincing at the jagged rocks digging into his back as well. 

 

* * *

 

Team Voltron had intercepted a distress call on a nearby rock giant with an acidic atmosphere high in sulphur dioxide and nitrogen.

Following the paladin code they had of course dived in head first without any intel. Lucky for them the Blades had been on board the Castle of Lions to offer backup when the distress call had turned out to be a ruse to lure Voltron into an enemy trap. Kolivan and Antok had engaged the enemy in hand-to-hand combat as Ulaz, accompanied with air support from Thace in a shuttle and Allura with the Castle, had tried to disarm the high-particle energy cage that was efficiently both trapping the Lions and paralyzing their Paladins.

Blows had been exchanged only for a few doboshes when liquid raining from the sky had all parties scrambling for cover. Antok, having been fighting further away from the others and the protecting rock formations, had cursed and scurried to the nearby chasm in hopes of a sheltered overhang or something. In his haste he had failed to notice the loose ground, and as his footing failed and his momentum send him crashing into his enemy running for the same cover, the only thought crossing his mind was that if this didn’t kill him, Kolivan would.

Now though, as he eyed sheepishly at Narti, Kolivan might never get the chance. 

 

* * *

 

They were trapped. Safe from the melting acid rain of the surface, but trapped. In their ( _his_ ) tumble they had reached the safety of the chasm, but had fallen into a narrow crack and were now held in place by the vice grip of the two rock walls and their bodies. Narti’s tail was trapped next to her head with her arms pinned against her abdomen by the larger hybrid’s chest. Antok’s tail had a bit more room sloping downwards between his legs, but hit sword hand was wrenched upwards above his and Narti’s heads (with a grip still on his blade miraculously) and the other, dislocated from the elbow, bent behind his lower back.

“Sorry,” he repeated. He really was.

An exasperated snort was his only reply.


End file.
